


Flowers on Tuesday

by dgdreamer



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, But at a different pace, Developing Relationship, F/M, Feelings, Flowers, Growing Old Together, Romance, Some angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:00:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 8,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23253589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dgdreamer/pseuds/dgdreamer
Summary: For Darcy Lewis, Tuesdays had always sucked. They were like Monday on repeat, with one weekend behind and another too far ahead to be seen. That is, until a certain super-soldier bumped into her life. Yeah, Tuesdays still sucked, but he had one way to make them just a little better.The story of how Darcy and Bucky met, fell in love, made a life, and grew old together.
Relationships: Background Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Darcy Lewis, background Jane Foster/Thor - Relationship, background Tony Stark/Pepper Potts
Comments: 107
Kudos: 202





	1. They Met on a Monday

**Author's Note:**

> So…I’m all about giving credit where it’s due, so I want to give a shout to seibelsays and her “He Brought Her Flowers on Monday.” {link below} The title alone sparked part of this rambling story of mine, but once I read it, I knew I had to go full tilt on it. As usual for me, I wrote the last chapter first and then the rest just came to me. I should be working on my coursework and my other fic, but this was in my head and needed to come out. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/23229472

**They met on Monday…** technically, it was Tuesday, but Darcy hadn’t been to bed yet, so it still counted. She’d never admit that something good had happened on a Tuesday. It never did. Tuesdays sucked. Like Monday on repeat. She’d finally put all her scientists to bed, or in the case of Tony Stark, put him in the care of the indomitable Pepper Potts, so it was the same. They were all finally out of her hair after a 36-hour lab binge, and she could finally crawl into her amazingly comfortable bed for a well-deserved rest.

Leaving the common room kitchen, mug of hot cocoa in one hand and phone in the other, she wasn’t prepared for what was about to happen. Just as she glanced down to add another song to Jane’s new "Science! Bitches!" playlist, it hit her. Or rather he did. Just like that, she was on her ass, covered in sticky marshmallow and chocolate and looking up at the one resident of the Tower that she hadn’t met yet. James “Bucky” Barnes towered over her, looking at once mildly annoyed and more than a little amused at her predicament.

Already tired, annoyed, and just so done with anyone’s shit, she glared at him in return. His apologies were sincere, and Darcy was just about to forgive him, but she picked up her phone and noticed the long crack on its face. Without speaking, she started to climb to her feet, accepting his offered hand with a slap that was perhaps a bit more forceful than necessary in her frustration. Muttering something about “bullshit Tuesdays that always fucking suck,” she traipsed off to her room without looking back.

On Tuesday morning, hey, it was before noon so it was technically morning, she walked into the lab expecting to hear a tirade from Jane about being late and then having to break the news that she needed more time off to run to the Apple store. What she found was her boss and best friend staring at Darcy's desk as if there was an equation on its surface that needed to be solved. Darcy’s eyes tracked to the point where Jane gaze fell, her own mouth falling open in surprise. Resting on her closed laptop was a box emblazoned with the SI logo that, unless someone was messing with her, announced that she was the unsuspecting owner of a brand new StarkPhone. Above that hovered a profusion of color and texture that spilled out of its container in a riot of blooms. Nestled there was a card, which Darcy was quick to snatch up and read. The message was simple.

“ _Sorry, doll. Stark replaced your phone. Should have heard him yell when he found out you were still using Apple. Hoping you have a Tuesday that doesn’t suck. JB_ ”


	2. She Saw Him Again on Saturday...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy and Bucky have an actual conversation that starts something bigger. It's slow and easy, but it's building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the response to this little journey. It's been just what I've needed in these crazy, uncertain days. I hope you continue to enjoy... and I'm sending you all virtual flowers to brighten your day.

****

**She saw him again on Saturday… S** he was watching a movie in the common room. Everyone else was off doing their own thing, and Darcy was enjoying some peace and quiet, spending time with her movie BFFs Harry, Hermione, and Ron. He tried to sneak in and out without her noticing, but the light from the refrigerator gave him away. Before he could vanish, she threw out an invitation for him to join her. To Darcy’s surprise, and apparently his, Bucky agreed, a half-grin reshaping his face into an almost boyish charm.

Darcy paused the movie long enough to thank him for the flowers and the phone and to apologize for being angry with him. It wasn’t his fault that she was tired and distracted. She rambled something about having a crush on him since middle school when they’d studied World War II and the Howling Commandos, which had them both blushing awkwardly before he’d asked how her Tuesday had gone. Trying to change the subject to something more comfortable for both of them. When she told him, with pinkening cheeks, that Tuesdays were, and would remain, the worst day of the week but that the flowers made them suck a lot less, he couldn’t help but smile. If he could make her happy with something so simple, perhaps he was good for something in this modern world after all.

That Saturday was the first of many movie nights they would spend together either just the two of them or with part or all of the team. There were quiet conversations over coffee in the morning, loud disagreements over the finer points of anything from music to politics, and bouts of laughter over some story from a time when Captain America was just little Stevie and determined to let every bully in Brooklyn get a crack at him. It wasn’t that they consciously sought one another out, but when they were in the room together, they just gravitated toward the other’s orbit. They probably didn’t realize it, and if anyone else did, they were careful to keep it to themselves. If asked, they would have said they were friends, but everyone noticed that there were always flowers on Tuesday.

_“Happiness held is the seed; happiness shared is the flower.” – Unknown_

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please keep the kudos and comments coming. I will answer everyone... social distancing doesn't mean isolation. 
> 
> Hopefully, I'll be able to post a new chapter every day. Don't hold me to it. I'm now working from home and trying to complete a graduate degree. The times are a'changing.


	3. Their first date is on a Thursday…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Darcy take their friendship to the next level. He's awkward and she's snarky and things are just getting started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In these days of fear and uncertainty, here's a little something toothachingly sweet to get your mind off things. I hope this chapter reminds some of you of first dates... or makes you look forward to them...

It’s just dinner and a walk in the park, but it put new weight behind what had been growing between them for months. He couldn’t work up the nerve to ask in person, so he’d written the invitation on the card that he was careful always to include with the flowers that he sent every Tuesday morning. He didn’t know how it had become something of a ritual with him, but he found that he enjoyed walking to the florist and picking out something that he knew would make her smile. He made sure he handwrote every card as well. Why it meant something to him to get the words just right and make sure they came from him, he couldn’t say. It just didn’t feel right to let someone type out what he needed to tell her himself. Most of the time the messages were simple, sometimes he wanted to make her laugh, and other times, he needed to say “I’m sorry”… again… He was a mess and she knew it. But somehow she didn’t care. She’d already seen him when he came back from a mission, still feeling the shadow of the Soldier hovering at the edges of his mind, and she’d known just what he needed each time. And no matter what he did, even when he lashed out in anger that should have never been directed at her, she was right there. He knew that he was gone on her and was pretty sure she felt the same. He just needed to let her know he was ready to take that next step.

So, he’d picked out a bright arrangement of purple and yellow blooms and written out a card. _“Hope you’re having a Tuesday that doesn’t suck. Will you make my Thursday brighter by going to dinner with me? JB”_ Yeah, it might have been a little corny and lame, but he hadn’t done this kind of thing in 70 years and never with a girl he’d felt like this about. Darcy had texted him an answer so early on Tuesday morning that he wondered if she’d spent all night in the lab and had been there when the flowers had been delivered. His relief at seeing her enthusiastic “YES!” was almost palpable, so clear that he’d had to wipe the training mat with a smirking and chuckling Captain America’s patriotic ass.

When Bucky had picked her up, he was stunned once again with how gorgeous she was. He’d heard people compare her to the pin-ups they’d carried around with them during the war, and by damned if they weren’t right. He stuttered out how he’d wanted to wait to take her out on Friday night so they wouldn’t need to worry about her getting back so she wouldn’t be too tired for work the next morning, but he had a mission. She snarked back something about him presuming that she was the kind of girl that let boys keep her out past curfew. And the night had gone smoothly from there. They found that things weren’t much different than they had been before. They still talked and laughed and bickered a bit over inconsequential things, though this time he held her hand as they walked and tucked her up close to his side under his arm when she started looking a little chilled in the night air.

Sometime before midnight, Bucky walked Darcy to her door as slowly as possible, not wanting their time together to end. When they reached it, she turned to look up at him, her face soft and expectant. Bucky drew her into his body, wrapping his arms around her for the first time, feeling the lush curves pressed against him in a whisper of a promise of better things to come. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth, whispering “Good night, doll,” before releasing her and turning to go. Bucky hoped Darcy didn’t hear his chuckle when her huff of exasperation echoed in the hallway just before her door opened and clicked shut.

The next morning, he sent her a text just before he boarded the quinjet just to let her know that he was leaving, but he’d be thinking of her and wanted to take her out again when he got back. She took a little longer to answer him this time, but the response was the same. And then he was gone, but on Tuesday, when she woke up in the lab after spending most of the night entering data for Jane, there were flowers on her desk with a card that read, _“I had a great Thursday. Hope your Tuesday doesn’t suck. I’ll see you soon! JB”_

_“Flowers leave some of their fragrance in the hand that bestows them.” – Chinese Proverb_

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so grateful to everyone who has read, commented, or left kudos on this tale I'm attempting to spin. Writing it has taken my mind off the trouble outside for just a bit. 
> 
> Pay it forward... thank someone who is working in a grocery store or pharmacy, just so we can have a little slice of normal in these uncertain days. 
> 
> Remember, we might be socially distant, but we don't need to feel isolated. I'm here with you.


	4. He came back on a Friday…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy is patient, but there's only so much bullshit she can take from one super-soldier. Bucky knows he doesn't deserve her, but she makes a good argument.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm keeping my promise to post a chapter daily, but that might change. C-19 has hit our community and my daughter is a nurse. Trigger the anxiety... 
> 
> I need to write to escape... I hope I can help you do the same.

The mission that was supposed to last days took weeks to finish. But every Tuesday, there was a fresh arrangement on her desk. Always with a card that read _“Hope your Tuesday doesn’t suck. I’ll see you soon!”_ in his crisp, precise handwriting. Darcy knew they were back because she’d seen the others. Steve passing through the common room’s kitchen grabbing his second breakfast between his early morning run and training with Thor or Sam. Clint, sporting fresh cuts and bruises and a decided limp as he ambled toward Stark’s lab to talk about a problem with his new grappling arrows. And Natasha, quietly sipping a cup of tea doing her best imitation of a cat enjoying the warmth of the sun streaming over the chair where she was reading a book.

Darcy waited for Bucky to appear, knowing that sometimes he just needed a couple of days to wind down from missions that had dredged up memories that he’d hoped would stay lost in the maze of his mind. By Monday, though, it was getting harder to not wonder what was wrong and whether he regretted starting something more with her. On Tuesday, a fresh bouquet appeared on her desk and beside it, the red-haired woman who knew the current version of James “Bucky” Barnes better than anyone on earth. Although she faced the desk, Darcy knew that Natasha was aware of her presence as soon as she entered the room. As soon as she drew alongside, the Russian began to tell her that the mission had been a particularly bad one and that he was not dealing with it as well as he might have been. There were no details, but Darcy knew that if Natasha was speaking to her, things had been worse than horrible. Unexpectedly, the other woman laid her hand on Darcy’s forearm, giving it a firm squeeze. “Be patient with him, _milaya_. He cares for you. More than you know.”

It was a week later that he finally sought her out, knocking gently at her door as if hoping she wouldn’t hear and wouldn’t answer and he could just fade away. He’s not that lucky. Darcy had been waiting for him, checking her phone for texts and listening for his knock, trying to follow through on what Natasha had asked of her. He looked tired, eyes haunted, reflecting more pain than she’d ever experienced or seen. She wanted to be angry with him for avoiding her for so long, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it when she stood face to face with a man in such obvious pain. She asked him in but waited for him to start the conversation he both did and didn’t want to have. When he began to speak, it was haltingly, as if each word were ripped from his very soul.

He told her that he cared about her, that he wanted to build something with her, but she didn’t deserve to be linked to a man who spent more time broken than he did whole. He was worried that she didn’t realize what she was getting into and that maybe they’d been wrong to try to be more than friends. When he’d said his piece, Darcy put her hand on his arm, the left arm that he was so conscious about, hoping that both words and action would get through to the obnoxiously stubborn man who sat in front of her. She started by telling him that she cared about him too, and that she was glad they spent time getting to know one another as friends before they started anything more. Then her voice took on a hardness that he’d rarely heard before when she called his reasons for not seeing her “bullshit” and told him off for thinking he could tell her what she deserved. In a few simple sentences, spoken softly but with a core of steel, Darcy let him know that she was not stupid, she was not afraid, and he was not allowed to take away her decision just because he thought it was the best for her. Then she fell silent, waiting for him to respond.

Bucky knew he was lost. He knew he didn’t deserve her, but he wanted her in his life. It didn’t matter what either one of them thought the other deserved. They had each made a decision and they were going to follow through until something else happened to change that. His smile was half-hearted at best as he joined her on the sofa. No more words needing to be said as they sat quietly in the half-light of evening.

_“The flower that follows the sun does so even in cloudy days.” – Robert Leighton_

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. I'm overwhelmed by the reception this little story has gotten. The kudos and comments have been a bright spot in an otherwise gloomy few days. 
> 
> Please stay safe... and social distance doesn't mean we're alone. 
> 
> I'm here on the other side of the screen... stop by and say "hi."


	5. Their second date was on Saturday…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Darcy spend the day at Coney Island. It's a good day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still working on this daily and it's still a welcome escape when the world is on fire. It's better when you can control the chaos somewhere. I hope you enjoy.

He took her to Coney Island. He’d asked her out again before he left her apartment the night before, feeling more settled about where they stood than he had in more than a week. They weren’t really talking about his almost rejection of her for her own good, but they weren’t overly careful with one another either. Darcy was mindful to check in with him if the crowds got too dense or the noise too loud, which did more to assure that she was aware of what she was dealing with when it came to him. Bucky watched the people, tucking Darcy under his arm again, this time not to ward off a chill, but to protect her from being jostled by people who were intent on their own purposes, not caring that her small stature made her an unwitting target for wayward elbows. Darcy took the opportunity to snuggle closer to him, somehow not minding being treated like she was somehow precious and fragile.

The day turned into night as they played the games, rode the rides, and ate far more junk food than was good for either of them. They saved the Ferris wheel for last, climbing into a car surrounded by half a dozen stuffed animals that Bucky won at the shooting gallery and ring toss. It somehow seemed unfair to use his superior skills to win those prizes, but the delight in Darcy’s eyes each time he hit the target was more than enough to assuage any guilt he might have felt.

Bucky kissed Darcy for the first time when their car was stuck at the top of the wheel. She suspected that he’d somehow paid the operator to make sure it would happen, but he would never admit it. It was cheesy, and perfect, and it was at that moment that Darcy knew she was in serious trouble of losing her whole heart to a wounded man with the most kissable lips she’d ever encountered.

When she arrived at the lab on Tuesday, there was no artistic arrangement, no bouquet of almost wildflowers… instead, there was a single red rose tied with a simple white ribbon resting across her closed laptop. This time, there was no card. It was fine, she knew what he was saying.

_“Flowers are love’s truest language.” – Park Benjamin_

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again... thank you all for your overwhelming reaction to this story. All the hits, kudos, and comments have made some tough days better. 
> 
> Again, social distance, not isolation. I'm here on the side of the screen... yeah, I'm looking at you! You are a precious soul, so stay safe and reach out to those around you who might need help right now.


	6. The big third date is on Friday…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the third date, and Bucky and Darcy both know what that means. He calls in reinforcements, and things get serious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one of my favorite chapters to write. Perhaps one day I'll take this story and really write it out in detail, but for now, this is the best I've got. 
> 
> Okay... here it is... third date rule!

**...** less than a week after they had a mutual epiphany while perched atop the Feriss wheel on Coney Island. Every day since had been busy for Darcy and Bucky, but they still made some time to be together. There were texts throughout the day, dinners in the common room or the lab, depending on what Jane, Bruce, or Tony had going on. He dropped by with lunch one afternoon when she couldn’t be pulled away from her work. She’d popped into the gym to watch him train with Steve, Natasha, and Clint. The rest of the team took great pleasure in teasing them about their obvious attachment to one another while quietly supporting what they had seen growing from the beginning.

Bucky called in some reinforcements for their third date. Pepper both suggested and made arrangements at a restaurant that was quiet, dark, and romantic. Natasha dressed them both, ruthless in her determination for the absolute perfection she insisted on. Whether the car was Stark’s knowing contribution would be debated for years, he insisted it was all his idea, but others knew better. Nevertheless, it was luxurious and afforded them some measure of privacy as they made their way through the New York streets.

Soft music and candlelight spilled across the space, and an air of anticipation drifted almost palpably on the air between Darcy and Bucky. The “third date rule” had been a topic of discussion on one the team bonding nights they’d shared when they called themselves just friends, and Bucky found that this was an aspect of twenty-first century life that made him both grateful and anxious to be alive.

The food must have been good, but if you asked them later, neither could tell what they ate. What they did remember, they never shared with anyone else, but when anyone asked it was clear in the warmth of their eyes and the half-smiles and almost blushes that it was precious to them, even years later when they had more years behind them than ahead.

There were flowers again on Tuesday. This time they appeared as soon as she opened her eyes, a single bloom on her pillow and a few more on the nightstand by the bed they’d shared since their date on Friday, neither wanting to sleep alone ever again if it could be helped. Darcy found more by the coffee pot, where her empty cup rested beside his with drops at the bottom showing that he was out for his morning run but would be back soon. Throughout that Tuesday, she found blossoms and buds in various shapes and colors in the most unexpected places, all of them making their way into the vase that constantly stood ready on her desk until it overflowed… like both their hearts were beginning to.

_“If I had a single flower for every time I think about you, I could walk forever in my garden.” – Claudia Adrienne Grandi_

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am completely overwhelmed by the reception this story is getting. I wake up every morning looking forward to seeing new reads, kudos, and comments. It has made some very dark days so much brighter. Please don't stop. 
> 
> Stay safe. Stay safe. Stay in touch. We might need to keep our physical distance, but we can make connections. I'm still here... reach out on tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/dgdreamer6986


	7. He disappeared on a Wednesday…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Darcy are living together. Then, there's a mission...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me for this. There needs to be some trouble. Any of us who have lived know it. The good thing is, I'm going to fix it. Just hang in for a few more chapters...I promise.

Months had passed since they’d first starting spending their nights together. There were days spent in laughter when the missions were few and the companionship warm, some in tears when the circumstances of their lives became just too much. Long hours of talking, or just being quiet, content in one another’s company. He learned to deal with the meltdowns she had when her scientists had driven her to the point of distraction. She learned to help him when he woke sweating and shaking, fresh from a nightmare, afraid to fall back to sleep where his demons waited to drag him back into memories best left in the dark. Together they worked to fit themselves into one another’s lives and into the group of scientists, spies and sharpshooters that had created a family that shared things much thicker than blood.

Then, he was simply gone. He’d been sent out on a mission with Natasha. Something so secret that he could only tell her the day he would be leaving. Darcy knew better than to expect any contact. He was usually radio silent for long periods after he left. Only occasionally able to send a short message depending on what they were involved with. Short missions were usually more easy to handle. One or two days, and he would be back. Ones that dragged on for longer, however, saw Darcy working more than usual, staying in the labs so long that when she finally wandered back to the apartment they’d shared for seven weeks, all she could do was collapse into bed in exhaustion.

Darcy tried not to worry or drive herself insane wondering what he was doing and imagining the thousands of ways things to go wrong. That he had Natasha with him made things better somehow. They would watch one another’s backs. Their shared history binding them close in ways that neither shared with their usual partners. Once in a while, however, when she gave her thoughts a chance to take a wayward turn, the anxiety would strike like a knife to the heart and she would escape to some quiet corner to cry a few silent tears.

Every Tuesday, there were flowers. The message on every card the same, obviously written and left behind to be delivered on the day of the week he knew she hated most. _“Hope this Tuesday doesn’t suck. See you soon, doll!”_

Something went wrong. She knew it the minute she saw Steve’s face. Even before he called everyone to suit up. Darcy didn’t speak. She couldn’t summon the words. She just gripped Jane’s hand as she watched everyone leave the common room, the sound of Steve’s assurances that they would bring him back ringing hollow in her ears as silent tears tracked down her face.

_“Where flowers bloom so does hope.” – Lady Bird Johnson_

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you all so much for reading. I feel like you are all friends that I haven't met yet. Your kudos and comments mean so much. If this little story brings you a smile, then I am a very accomplished woman. 
> 
> I am totally writing this when I should be working on my PhD research... but the world is a mess and no one really cares about long dead philosophers right now. We need to escape and to give one another the opportunity to run away together, if only in our heads. 
> 
> I may not be able to reach out IRL, but I'm here... socially distant but not isolated...


	8. It was Tuesday…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Didn't Darcy say that Tuesday was the day that sucked the most...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry! This part is hard, but better days are coming. 
> 
> Just a warning and a promise.

**...** and, for the first time in more than a year, the vase on Darcy’s desk was empty. Every Monday afternoon, the last thing she did before leaving the lab was clear out her “Tuesday vase” to make room for Bucky’s latest offering. Most of the time, last week’s flowers still had enough life in them to find their way back to their apartment to be enjoyed just a little longer. Until their sorry state drove the giver to throw them out with a kiss to the forehead and a whispered reassurance that Tuesday was coming again soon. Some members of their little family called her spoiled, but Bucky would just beam at Clint and remind him who was sleeping alone and who was not.

But it was Tuesday again and the emptiness on her desk was echoed somewhere in Darcy’s chest. How long she stood frozen to the spot, she didn’t know, only dimly aware that Jane and Thor carefully guided her back to the empty apartment where the fading colors of last week’s bouquet brought her to her knees in silent agony.

The team moved in and out of the Tower, searching once more for their absent friend. Natasha had been located on that first rescue mission, bloody and broken in a way that no one had ever seen. She recovered, little by little, but retaining some shadow of guilt for what she felt had been her fault. Often she could be found sitting by Darcy’s side. Neither of them speaking much, but sharing a grief that neither one could express in words.

Months of Tuesdays passed, and still, the vase stood empty on Darcy’s desk, standing silent sentinel to the hope that it would be filled again.

_“A flower blooming in the desert proves to the world that adversity, no matter how great, can be overcome.” – Matshona Dhliwayo_

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every day I'm more and more amazed at the reception this has received. I thank you all for your reads, kudos, and comments. Please keep them coming. Some days I struggle to keep the anxiety at bay and find the beauty in life. You have all helped me cope. 
> 
> Yesterday, I watched the Pope from St. Peter's. I'm not Catholic, but I must say it was a balm to my troubled soul. Today, I send you all the peace and love that I felt yesterday. We can't be together, but we aren't alone. 
> 
> Stay safe. Stay healthy. Stay connected... Until tomorrow...


	9. Brooklyn Jane Lewis-Barnes was born on a Monday…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ... and there's a surprise addition to the Avengers family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of those bittersweet moments that came to me as I was piecing the beginning and end of this story together. As usual for me, I wrote the last chapter first with a beginning in mind and am filling in the blanks as they come to my anxiety riddled brain. 
> 
> I promise... Bucky will be back soon! Then we'll have much more fluffy sweetness for awhile. We all might need our dentists when this is over.

She was tiny and perfect and looked so much like her father that Steve choked on his tears when he first cradled her to his chest. She hadn’t been planned, but she was loved from the minute two pink lines appeared on that plastic drugstore test sitting on the counter of the bathroom in Jane’s lab. Darcy and Bucky had never discussed the possibility of children, in fact, they’d been very careful to prevent it. That is, with the exception of that last time. The morning he left, they had been desperate for one last taste of each other, as if somehow their bodies knew what was to come. It was a swirl of heat and teeth and gasping breath, and caught up in the moment, they had forgotten anything else but their need.

Darcy hadn’t worried too much at first. Her daily pills seemed an adequate line of defense against unintended consequences. But two months later, the signs were impossible to ignore. So she took the test and fell in love all over again with the tiny piece of Bucky that had been left behind. The first to notice the changes in her was Natasha. She had probably known before Darcy took the test, but kept the knowledge to herself. The secret didn't stay secret long. Tony ratted her out as soon as he noticed that she wasn't his drinking buddy anymore. Pepper's whack to the back of his head was enough to make Darcy forgive him. 

The team did everything they could to support her, constantly checking in and making sure she wanted for nothing while they redoubled their efforts to find Bucky. And when the time came for Bucky’s daughter to make her appearance, they were right there. And, if her father’s best friend and best student stood proxy for him, it was only right.

Little Brooklyn Jane Lewis-Barnes was born on Monday, and on Tuesday Darcy’s room was filled with flowers though none were from him.

_“In joy and in sadness, flowers are our constant friends.” – Unknown_

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can't see me, but I'm doing a happy dance over here. I can't believe I passed the 1,000 hit mark and it's still climbing. As far as I know, this is the most widely read piece that I've ever done... and I've been published in the academic world! Thank you so much for your support. It means the world to me. 
> 
> Please keep the comments and kudos coming... and feel free to reblog if you find this over on the Tumblr... https://dgdreamer6986.tumblr.com
> 
> As the number of people affected by this worldwide crisis rises, I know we are all feeling a little anxious and uncertain. Reach out to one another. We may need to keep our social distance, but we are not alone. Strangers are just friends we haven't met yet... Wishing you love and peace!


	10. They brought him back on a Thursday…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story of Bucky and Darcy continues... together again...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't keep them apart too long, so here it is... the reunion... and the first meeting. 
> 
> Enjoy!

He was broken in body and mind, and even Steve’s eternal optimism seemed dimmed by his state. Darcy wasn’t allowed to see him at first. For the first few days, no one sure if he was more the Soldier to be feared or the Bucky they loved. He barely spoke, and then only in curt Russian words or phrases. Steve and Natasha spent hours with him, talking through things that had happened years ago and more recently. The conversations were scattered and disjointed, at first ending with shouted curses and threats , not to mention a few well-timed punches. Darcy stood on the other side of the two-way glass as often as possible, when the needs of her infant daughter or her own body would allow, and prayed to whatever deity would listen that today would be the day that he would come back to her, body, mind, and soul.

It took six days for Bucky to stop speaking in Russian and five more for him to complete more than just the simplest sentences in English. Steve was with him when the story of what had happened came out in a torrent of words three days after that. Darcy wasn’t there, and was both guilty and glad that she would never know what kinds of new tortures he had been through. She was there, however, when Bucky finally asked about her. Natasha didn’t hesitate, she simply walked to the door and opened it for Darcy to enter. The reunion was quiet. Both too full of thoughts and fears and feelings to do more than silently stare before they dared to hold one another until they were interrupted.

Brooklyn met her father on a Sunday. He’d been released to come back to their shared apartment after everyone was sure he was as close to himself as he ever could be. Darcy had told him everything on the second day she was allowed into his room. The conversation was difficult, but Darcy forgot every word of it when Bucky tentatively lifted his daughter from her crib and cradled her to his chest, staring as if he meant to memorize every centimeter of her pink skin. He refused to let her go for hours, talking softly to her and taking over as much of her care as he physically could until Darcy insisted that he rest himself.

When Darcy woke on Tuesday, it was to a sight that she didn’t know she’d missed until that moment. Her eyes, already blurred from sleep, misted over. There, on the nightstand, was a bouquet of pink roses. A short trip from bed to bathroom to living room found more offerings scattered on almost every available surface. The tears that had been threatening fell finally when her eyes found Bucky, holding their daughter with one hand and a small white card in the other. With trembling hands she opened it to find his familiar handwriting:

_“I missed a few Tuesdays. Hope this one doesn’t suck. I love you. JB”_

If Brooklyn saw her parents both lose it, she apparently didn’t mind and wasn’t saying anything.

_“Life is the flower for which love is the honey.” – Victor Hugo_

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will say again... thank you all so much for reading, commenting, leaving kudos, and generally making me feel so good about this story. You are so kind and it means more than you will ever know. 
> 
> I have ideas/outlines/drafts for about 12 more chapters. We have a lifetime to walk through, but we're only hitting the high spots. There will be much fluff... and some serious parenting issues coming. I'm still working that out, but our Soldier is the father of a daughter. That's going to be a big deal. I hope you all stay with me on this journey. 
> 
> More states have issued "Stay at Home" orders. Please follow these people. My daughter is an Emergency Department nurse, and it's important. Keep her and those like her, and their families, as safe as you can. We can get through this together. We will keep our social distance, but we don't need to be isolated. I'm here... waving at you on the other side of the screen... Yes, I see you! Hello!... Do what you can to reach out. Others may need to hear from you as much as you need to hear from them. Much love... dgd


	11. He proposed on a Thursday…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Bucky and Darcy to take another step on their journey. Of course, nothing ever goes as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... it's Tuesday. 
> 
> Here's hoping yours doesn't suck.

If you asked him later, Bucky would say that it was on purpose because their first date fell on that day of the week, but Darcy would call bullshit on that and remind him what actually happened. Then she would give him a tender smile and assure him that his not being able to wait was perfect.

In the two years since he come back, they had talked many times about their future. He insisted at first that they marry immediately. His old fashioned ideas of what was “proper” bumped squarely against Darcy’s twenty-first century sensibilities. Her assurances that she was committed to him without a piece of paper did little to settle the unease he felt when he thought about what he really wanted. He didn’t push, but Darcy could see it in his eyes when something reminded him of gold rings and promises spoken. Slowly, Darcy found her objections to the idea of making things official fading, and even before she was ready for it, Bucky had a small black box tucked away, just waiting on the right time.

As usual, nothing for them went according to plan. They were in the restaurant where they’d shared their third date, and Bucky was called away to save the city… again. The ring had been burning a hole in his pocket since they’d left the Tower, and the knot in his stomach had kept him from taking more than a bite or two of food. Leaving her there without saying the words he’d rehearsed a thousand times cut more sharply than one of Natasha’s blades… but he did it. He’d come home in the early hours of the next morning, prepared to set another scene and try again, but Darcy met him at the door, anxiety clear on her face and a feverish Brooklyn clutched to her chest. A trip to medical and several tense days later, Bucky started making plans again. That time it was a breakthrough in Jane’s lab that derailed his efforts.

The pattern repeated for weeks. Bucky would make elaborate plans, but the universe seemed to doom him to failure. To say he was frustrated would be a serious understatement. So… it happened like this…

Brooklyn was happily ensconced in the company of her Auntie Nat and Uncle Steve so her parents could spend a few hours together without the accompanying chatter of an excitable two-year old. They were walking through Central Park, on a quiet, out of the way path, talking about everything and nothing when he made up his mind. He stopped her with a subtle shift of his hand and dropped to one knee. There were no candles, no flowers, no elaborate speeches… and no ring. It was just a simple question, asked from the heart of a man who had never thought he would see this day. With wet eyes and a soft smile, she said yes.

Sparkling, still-new feeling diamond finally in place, Darcy spied her customary bright bouquet in her “Tuesday vase.” He’d never stopped sending the flowers and since they’d been interrupted, she never took them for granted, heart melting at the sight every week. The words on the card brought tears to her eyes while forcing a pop of laughter from her throat.

_“Let’s set a date? But not on a Tuesday… Tuesdays suck! Love, JB”_

_“Flowers don’t tell, they show.” – Stephanie Skeem_

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am grateful to everyone who has read, left kudos, and commented. I answer every comment with joy! This story has received more attention than I ever thought it would. It does my heart good. 
> 
> As we continue to deal with the effects of COVID-19 here in my home state (in the US), I am thinking about everyone else around the world who are having more troubles than a shortage of toilet paper. Please stay safe everyone, and if you are in a place where things aren't this bad... listen and take precautions early. Wash your hands! Stay home if you can! Practice social distancing when you can't! 
> 
> We are separated, but not isolated! When you do go out, don't forget to smile at people from your social distance. We're all anxious, but we can lift one another's spirits with something as simple as a friendly face. 
> 
> Wishing you peace and love...


	12. They were married on a Friday…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's their big day... and, for once, nothing goes wrong!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you are... have some tooth-rotting fluff for your Wednesday.

**...** because Darcy said that was the best day of the week, the workweek done and a weekend ahead. Bucky said he didn’t care. He would have married her on a Tuesday morning, then they would never suck again. In spite of Tony’s best efforts, including begging, pleading, and attempted bribery, it was a small affair, just the family they had made of the other residents of the Tower. They made it up to him by allowing him to stand in for Darcy’s absentee father and walk Darcy down the aisle, and, of course, pay for the whole thing.

Thor was thrilled to be chosen to perform the ceremony. He stood tall and proud in his Asgardian armor, speaking a blessing over the couple before beginning the more traditional vows. Steve stood at Bucky’s side, right where he had been for almost a century, give or take a few years. The presence of his best friend, his brother in all but blood, was a welcome one since Bucky felt as if he might vibrate out of his skin in anticipation. Steve’s calming hand on his shoulder grounded him like nothing else could.

When the doors leading from the penthouse to the canopied balcony opened, Bucky’s breath caught in his throat and his knees threatened to buckle under the weight of sheer emotion. Brooklyn came first, holding tight to Auntie Nat’s hand, little face solemn as she had moved toward him. Even years later, when she was grown with children of her own, this was how he would remember her. She gripped her little basket of pink roses in one hand and reached for his with the other, tugging him until he got the message that he needed to shift his attention.

He barely noticed Jane making her way toward him. His focus was solely on what lay beyond. There, in the doorway, arm tucked into Tony’s, stood Darcy looking like everything he’d ever wanted in life and knew he didn’t deserve… before or after the war. 

For her part, Darcy stood completely still for perhaps the first time in her life. She was only dimly aware of Tony’s quiet chuckle and the grip of the fingers of his free hand on hers where they rested on his arm as he finally propelled them forward. Later, she would swear that Jane had teleported them across the balcony, not remembering a single step, only the look in Bucky’s eyes.

In fact, neither of them remembered much of the ceremony itself or the dinner that followed. There were only hazy impressions of Thor’s rumbling voice and the feeling that, finally, for once, all was right with the world.

And, on Tuesday, waking up in a tropical paradise surrounded by its native blooms, Darcy spied a single red rose on the pillow beside her head with a card that read…

_“My darling wife… This Tuesday does not suck. All my love, JB”_

_“Love is the flower you’ve got to let grow.” – John Lennon_

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you so much for reading. You will never know how grateful I am. If this story makes you smile, then I am a happy, happy woman! Today has been a tough day, but in light of what is happening, it seems petty. COVID-19 is shutting down the world and it's going to mean another semester for me at least to do my PhD work. I'm bummed... but I know my worries are small in comparison. 
> 
> Please, leave comments, kudos, share this story with someone who needs a lift and re-read it if you do. I look forward to getting those email notifications. 
> 
> Stay in touch with one another... socially distant, but not isolated! Stay home if you can, and if you can't, stay safe! Much love...


	13. It was Wednesday…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life doesn't always go as planned. There are some changes coming for Darcy and Bucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back. My apologies for the delay in getting this chapter posted. One of my girls had a crisis and I had to slip into "mom" mode for a few days. If anyone tells you that it gets easier when they grow up and move out... they LIE! The problems are just different, and you can't protect them as much. 
> 
> Here's the next episode...

**...** and Darcy was sick. Could barely roll out of bed before she was bent double, throwing up her toenails sick. And Bucky was scared. More scared than he’d ever been in his life, even in Europe, strapped down in that warehouse under Zola’s control. In all the years he’d known her, Darcy seldom had more than a handful of minor illnesses, symptoms irritating but manageable. This was different. It had been going on for days. She was pale and shaky and Bucky’s first reaction was to rush her to the medical floor, certain that karma had finally caught up with him to give him what he deserved. An hour later, with tests run and results in, he was beginning to wonder what he’d done to deserve this.

Seven anxious months later found Darcy putting in extra hours in the lab, determined to do as much for Jane as possible while she still could. Bucky and Brooklyn cooked together nearly every day. Well, Bucky cooked and Brooklyn sat on the counter and made suggestions in her best four-year old logic about the best way to add her favorite sweet to the menu…she was her mother’s daughter after all. Then they would join Darcy for dinner before they went their separate ways again until bedtime.

It was Monday, and Bucky had bags of food on one arm and his daughter on the other, humming quietly to her as he approached the lab. Just in time to see Darcy crumple to her knees, gripping a lab table to support her upper body. Jane was there before he could push the door open. A few steps, food dropped heedlessly to the floor, and Jane exchanged his charge for hers, taking Brooklyn away before she could become upset.

In the blink of an eye, a panting and sweaty Darcy found herself lying on the small lab sofa, an anxious Bucky hovering, wiping the tears from her face and barking out orders to the AI for medical assistance. At once, time seemed to stop and yet it passed by in a blur. A half-hour after he flew into the lab, it was over.

Patrick Steven Lewis-Barnes made his rather spectacular entrance into the world on a Monday, caught by the hands of his father on a ratty sofa in Jane’s lab. Medical staff had arrived within minutes of their call, but choosing to only intervene if it became necessary. And if any of them noticed the tears in the Soldier’s eyes as he cradled his wife and new son, they weren’t saying anything.

The newest member of the Lewis-Barnes family was born on Monday, and, the next morning, Darcy woke to the sight of her two favorite men cuddled with her daughter in the chair near the bed. In Brooklyn’s hands was her “Tuesday vase” filled with flowers. She didn’t need to read the card. She knew the sentiment… if she replied, she would simply say…

_“This Tuesday doesn’t suck. All My Love DLB”_

_“A flower does not use words to announce its arrival to the world; it justs blooms.” – Matshona Dhliwayo_

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all again for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos. I've been overwhelmed at the reception. 
> 
> I have two or three more chapters planned for this one. I'm looking for new inspiration, so if anyone has anything they would like to see, I'm listening. I promise nothing, but suggestions are always welcome. 
> 
> If you do go out, remember that COVID-19 is not spread by eye contact or a smile. We're all anxious these days, so do what you can to help alleviate that in yourself and others. Stay at least 6 feet away, but smile and say hello to someone you pass in the grocery store. They may look at you funny, but they also may smile back. 
> 
> If you're one of those "essential" people, thank you from the bottom of my heart for doing what you do. If you go out and interact with one of these "essential" people, tell them how much you appreciate them. 
> 
> Stay safe! Stay healthy! Stay home (when you can). Remember, I'm here waving and smiling at you... Much love... dgd


	14. It's Saturday...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy does a little reflection and is pretty happy with the way life is turning out. Things change, but one thing always stays the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m back… sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out. I worked on it and then RL struck. First, my boss moved a deadline for a big project I’m working on, which meant lots of hours at my desk and in meetings with my team. Then we had tornadoes and no power or internet… that put me behind on said project… as you can tell, it has NOT been a good week! 
> 
> The good news is that I have the rest of the chapters for this story written. Oh, the magic of a legal pad and a really good pen. How I’ve missed it! I’m typing them all up and editing a bit, then I’ll post the last two chapters pretty close together. I’m happy with them, but I can’t wait to see how you guys react.

**…** and they’re alone. For the first time in more than twenty-five years there were no missions, no kids, and no parade of friends, Avengers, and assorted enhanced or alien individuals moving through the house. It was empty. Since that first night when Darcy had bumped into Bucky in the Avengers’ common kitchen they’d never really been by themselves. There were always others around. Even when they’d moved out of the city wherever they lived always seemed full. Now… it wasn’t. Not that Darcy was complaining. They were both looking forward to being empty-nesters, having time to spend with one another doing everything other couples did before settling down into a life with kids and white picket fences. But then again, their lives were never destined to be normal.

Now here they were. Middle aged, or at least she was and Bucky appeared to be, and about to be grandparents, sitting in a front porch swing that he’d hung when they first moved in and repaired so many times since Patrick was a toddler that it was practically new. They’d bought the house near the training facility Tony had built upstate not too long after arriving. Over the years, the old guard had given way to the new. Steve and Bucky stopped taking missions and settled into training new recruits and raising their families. Darcy grinned into her hot chocolate as she thought about the havoc the Lewis-Barnes and Romanov-Rogers crew had caused over the years, and when combined with the genius of Stark’s own dynamic duo, the effect was truly frightening. They had all turned out to be great adults, in spite of the menaces they’d been as children. Natasha’s mom glare was legendary and Steve’s eyebrows of disappointment worked as well on their misbehaving offspring as they still did on the American public. When Jane had taken off to Asgard with Thor to become Queen of the Nine Realms, Darcy had been at loose ends for the first five minutes, but she quickly realized that she had only been training to be a parent and godparent in all her years with Jane as she settled into a life of what passed for domesticity among their group. She missed being close to her old friends, but they visited when they could and always stayed in touch by phone, email, or in the case of Jane, raven. With a sigh Darcy snuggled deeper into Bucky’s side, contented with the life they had built together.

That wasn’t to say that it has always been easy. The good far outweighed the bad, but there were hard things they had to deal with. The things that were normal were easy, but occasionally, remnants of the past crept in and threatened to destroy what they had so carefully built over the years. They never let it happen, and often found themselves on the other side of the crisis stronger and better equipped for the next one that came their way. Things shifted and change, as they are wont to do, but one thing was constant. Every Tuesday of Darcy’s life, there were flowers. Sometimes wildflowers plucked from a nearby field and sometimes exotic blooms that defied description, but each offering appeared before she woke with a handwritten card…

_“I hope this Tuesday doesn’t suck. I love you. JB”_

_“If you tend to a flower, it will bloom, no matter how many weeds surround it.” – Matshona Dhliwayo_

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all who have left comments and kudos! You feed my heart! I hope you enjoyed this installment as much as you have the rest of the story. My daughter told me I must ship Romanogers, and that they must have children. She’s salty about MCU canon, don’t even get her started. I gave Tony kids, but didn’t tell you who with… that’s my own little head canon that I’ll retain for now. At the risk of making someone unhappy with me, I will say that I don’t ship Pepperony… I have lots to say on that but will refrain. 
> 
> Anyway… I’ve passed the one month mark of being at home and only venturing out when absolutely necessary… like when I run out of wine and chocolate. I think instead of a hot girl summer, we’re going to have a fat girl summer… I’m good with that. 
> 
> I hope today finds you safe and well and trying to find a spot of happy in all the chaos in our world right now. Remember, one of the best things you can do for yourself is reach out. Text a friend or family member. Call someone. Start conversations (not arguments) with someone you don’t know on social media. If you can’t think of anyone to talk to… hit me up here or on the Tumbr… I’m probably going to need to get my face out of this project once in awhile and meeting someone new would be a great way to do it. We are isolated, but not alone. Stay safe and be well, my friends… much love… dgd


	15. It was early on Tuesday morning…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A stranger is introduced to the tradition of Darcy’s “Tuesday vase” and it makes an impression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was at once a hard and an easy chapter to write. Part of it was inspired by my own parents… Dad called Mom his “doll” or “sweetheart” to the day he died. They loved each other with the kind of dedication that most of us will only aspire to reach. That’s where I started here. 
> 
> We’ve only got this chapter and one more to go. Take your time reading this… you might need a tissue… I did, and I wrote it.

...way to early for visitors, or so thought Sarah, catching sight of a tall, dark man making his way down the corridor. No one else seemed to paying him any particular attention, but Sarah was new on the floor and wasn’t going to be as complacent as everyone else seemed to be. Before she could take a step to confront the dark stranger, another nurse on duty gripped her arm to keep her in place, silently shaking her head and cutting her eyes toward the figure in a gesture that bid her watch.

The man passed by without a word or whisper of sound, disappearing into the room situated the furthest away from their station, Mrs. Barnes’ room her memory supplied, and emerged seconds later with a fistful of only slightly faded flowers clasped in his hand. He brought them to a small table positioned across from their desks and deposited them in the vase that was empty of the wilted flowers that had stood there only the day before.

It was not until he had retraced his steps to the woman’s room and the deep rumble of his voice filtered softly out that Sarah’s coworker supplied an explanation for what she’d just witnessed. The story brought a mixture of emotions that left her heart touched with both a wistfulness and pain that shifted her opinions about early morning visitors. She struggled to conceive that this seemingly middle-aged man was actually closer to 150 years old, and that he’d lived through things in his life that would have driven most men to insanity. Everyone knew that Steve Rogers and James Barnes were the world’s oldest men because of their enhanced status, but Sarah realized that most people didn’t really understand what that meant for them. They had both woken up in a world they didn’t recognize, only to spend more decades watching the people they were closest to grow old and die, all while they remained relatively young and healthy. The cruelty of the situation hit Sarah like a blow to the chest, the feeling so strong that she sucked in a breath. Mr. and Mrs. Barnes had been married for the better part of sixty years, or so the notes in her chart said. Sarah’s heart broke for the man she saw and knew she would see more life and loss before his time on earth was through.

Sarah also learned that what she’d witnessed in the pre-dawn hours was a weekly ritual the staff had not only become accustomed to, but anticipated. Mr. Barnes would come in early, before his wife woke, and exchange the flowers in her “Tuesday vase” beside her bed for fresh ones. He would also leave two cards. One would remain propped where Mrs. Barnes could see it near her flowers, though she often had to be reminded who "JB" was, while the other would be placed on the table in the hallway with the still beautiful last week’s blooms. He would only stay for a few minutes during these early morning calls, speaking to her softly while she slept. He would slip out quietly and return later in the day to spend hours by her bedside, patiently retelling the same stories to a continually surprised audience of one.

When the tale of their mysterious visitor was done, Sarah stepped over and picked up the neatly handwritten card she could have sworn wasn’t there a few minutes before. If there were tears in her eyes, no one was going to mention them…

_“Take care of my doll today. She always said Tuesdays sucked. JB”_

__

_“Open the bloom of your heart and become a gift of beauty to the world.” – Bryant McGill_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're coming to the end… one more chapter to go. I considered an Epilogue, but my grandma always said - "When it's done. Stop." I hate finishing, but “part of the story is the end.” 
> 
> I will be back with more, I’m sure. And… shameless plug ahead… if you’re interested, check out my Endgame AU “The Element Lost.” It’s going to be a long one. I have almost 200,000 words at various stages of completion. I’ve just got to work out a few plot points. It’s going to get a little steamy and smutty, so if that’s not your thing, steer clear. I have some other works posted that might keep you entertained. 
> 
> If you’re an old friend, thanks for hanging in there with me during my update delays. If you’re a new one, welcome, and leave your feedback in the comments. I’m always happy to hear from everyone. To our future selves… boy, I hope things come right again soon! Stay safe, my friends, and reach out when you need it. I’m always at the other side of the screen. Much love… dgd


	16. It was Tuesday...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They had a good life and the proof of it is all around him. Bucky marks an anniversary and passes down the tale of how Darcy always had flowers on Tuesday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter… I’m so sad to see this one go, but maybe I’ll revisit this with some different POVs and details. I don’t know. We’ll see. You might want a tissue or two for this one. Just saying…

**…** and a man walked slowly across the grass. Not as quickly as he once would have done and perhaps not as sure-footed as he wished he could be, though his bearing was as impressive as it had ever been during his best days. Coming to a stop, he was joined by others. Dozens of others of all ages. He usually came to visit on his own, but today was special. Hands came to wrap carefully around each of his arms, one metal, one flesh, although he felt them the same. One of those hands was small and manicured, one larger and roughened by many years of hard work handling weapons in the field. He looked at them, a man and woman grown and now growing old, although it seemed only a few days since they were both children, laughing and playing as others were all around him today.

Bucky looked them all over, his Ma would have called them “quite the brood.” He smiled as he remembered her, and comforted himself with the thought that she would be proud of the family he and Darcy had somehow created. There were great-grandchildren among them now, some of them so strikingly similar to the woman that he had loved so long that his heart stuttered at the sight of them. When Steve had found him, a broken wreck of a man so long ago, this could not have even entered his imagination.

Most of their friends were gone now, either to rule other realms or to their own well-deserved eternal rests. The Rogers and Stark descendants often checked in with their Uncle Bucky, sometimes calling just to chat, more often to ask him for advice as they picked up the mantles dropped by their forebearers. A smile crept across his finally-aging face as he thought about how proud his old friends would have been at what these youngsters were doing. And about how they would yell at their progeny for being just as reckless as they had been in the past. 

The cry of one of the children drew the woman… his Brooklyn… oh, how he’d given Darcy hell about that name… away from his side. In just a moment, her hand was replaced by another, much smaller one, enfolding his fingers in a tiny grasp. This was Patrick’s youngest grandson, another little Stevie, who gazed up at him with eyes that he knew matched his own. His little boy voice was almost drowned by the clamor of the others, prodding Bucky out of his thoughts. He gave a little grunt as if to ask the boy to repeat his question and received something between a snort and a huff that was so like Darcy that anyone would think she was still here to teach it to him.

The boy's innocent query hit him like a punch and finally prodded him to speech. He told him who Darcy Lewis-Barnes was and what she was like. About how her laugh echoed and her eyes danced with mischief. Without prompting, memories of days long past spilled out until all was quiet around him. Each one who had known her replaying events they recalled, and those who knew her only from stories imagining things that were part of their own history. No one interrupted him, they allowed him to ramble and remember until it seemed his soul had poured out everything it had held for what felt like eternity. When his words faltered, Stevie lifted wet eyes to his great-grandfather to ask why this day was so special.

Bucky knelt down, knees stiff and shaky, until he was almost at eye level with the boy who shared his best friend’s name and his wife’s bright smile. He paused, ruffling dark hair, and then told his final tale. The story of how he had met his Doll, his Darcy, on that exact date, and what she said that prompted the tradition that he still kept up. The tears that had been threatening spilled over as Stevie took Bucky’s hand and together they placed the flowers he had been clutching at the base of a marble stone.

If anyone had been intrusive enough to read the card, they would have found these words, written with a shaky, but still beautiful, script…

_“I’ll see you soon, doll! Then Tuesday will never suck again. Really, none of them did as long as I was with you. All my love. JB”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is folks. The End. 
> 
> Just a note of encouragement today because I need it. This is a messed up, scary, confusing, difficult time and it's okay to not be okay. Just reach out to someone before it's too not okay to take. I'm here. I'll listen. I'll offer advice when asked and keep my mouth shut when I'm not. You may be isolated, but you're not alone. Stay safe! Stay well! Stay in touch! Much love... dgd

**Author's Note:**

> “The earth laughs in flowers.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson


End file.
